


Between Two States

by LadyBrooke



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Gen, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-24
Updated: 2020-01-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 08:54:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22394323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBrooke/pseuds/LadyBrooke
Summary: Finwë hides from all but Námo.It’s better that way, he thinks, if he can’t hold his spirit to one form.
Comments: 7
Kudos: 28





	Between Two States

**Author's Note:**

> Written for 100 words of losing your head on FFA.

Finwë hides from everyone in the Halls. His children, his grandchildren, Elu when he dies - all of them call for him, and all of them he runs from. They try to find him, Elu eventually speaking even to those he banned from his forests, but he will not allow them to.

He thinks it best he does not, especially when he glimpses his descendants around corners, the ones whose heads were also smashed in and who have recovered from it. 

He has not healed, is not sure he ever can when he constantly remembers those last moments when Morgoth’s weapon connected.

Námo alone is impossible to hide from.

Finwë cowers in a corner, spectral hands clutching at a head that is both there and not.

Námo watches for a moment, before dropping to the floor besides Finwë, who gasps in a breath he does not actually need.

“You are not healing,” Námo says.

Finwë shakes, his spirit shifting between one that all his family would recognize and one that only Fëanor’s sons would.

“You will not heal like this,” Námo finally says after watching him. “I will speak to my siblings. I will not keep you here for this torture.”

Finwë shakes his head, focusing until it is whole. “I can withstand it. Míriel-” He shakes again, and words come from a mouth that is no longer there. “Please, they deserve freedom.”

“Your fëar can not heal until your body is whole. I did not foresee cases like this when we built the Halls. We will find a new solution, but I am not Melkor and I will not keep elves in torment.” Námo rests a hand on Finwë’s shoulder. “Your words make it clear that you are.”

Finwë does not respond, lost once more in memories of his death.


End file.
